


The Survivor

by Gladrial



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Relationships, F/M, Normalization of Abusive Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-02
Updated: 2007-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-29 21:43:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/691786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gladrial/pseuds/Gladrial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A henchman’s job is to know his place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: RisqueSno
> 
> Disclaimer: DC owns all these characters and WB owns DC and Time Warner owns WB and I'm pretty sure the rest of the world.
> 
> Author notes: I've wanted to do this for a while: a henchman's look into our clown's lives. Wheee! I started this fic quite some time ago and then dropped it until RisqueSno started driving me batty to finish it. (Heh…batty.) I said, "I don't know. I think there was something about it I wasn't happy with." She then called me many nasty names. Upon another review, I love this fic! I must've dropped it because I got distracted by other stories which caused this one to be over a year in the making. How sad am I? I must point out that this takes place very early in the Joker/Harley relationship.

He hated his name. It didn't fit his chosen profession in the slightest, not that he really had much of a say in the matter. However, he was able to make up for the name with his massive bulk. If he was smart, he would of have tried making it in football, but he was never accused of having much in the brains department. Back in his school days, he was far more content playing the bully rather than the jock anyway.

Still, the name Lionel had to go. His last name was Whitefield so he had taken to introducing himself as 'White'. Most people he associated with nowadays didn't even know what his real name was and what's more didn't care.

One day White was channel surfing and he came across a documentary on "The World's Most Dangerous Jobs." He had laughed and took another swig from his beer bottle. You were never going to find him on that show, but White knew the truth: he, in fact, had the world's most dangerous job. Those deep sea fishers didn't come close to what he had to deal with.

White had been working as one of Joker's boys for about five years and, as far as he knew, that was some kind of record. Most of the people he had worked with when he began the gig were dead and the others simply got out before they ended up that way. He supposed he could leave too, but it was well known that the Joker paid the best out of anyone else he could opt to work for. (The clown had no choice if he wanted to keep people coming back for more punishment.) Besides, there were certain perks. His boss spent so much time incarcerated that White got plenty of time off to simply relax and spend the great deal of money he had earned.

The key to his survival was relatively simple and it rings true in any career: understand what your boss wants. Now, your normal, average, everyday paper-pusher could choose not to abide by this rule. As a consequence, he might find himself unemployed. The consequences White faced were much more dire, so this rule quickly became the guiding light in his life.

Don't get him wrong; White didn't claim to have to have some kind of in-depth understanding of his boss' psyche. If all those shrinks couldn't figure him out, who was he to talk? But White did know enough to get by. He just happened to stumble across the secret to his survival during the first job he pulled as a new member of the crew. He had noticed that those who grabbed the boss' attention were always the first to go, because Joker didn't like anyone taking the spotlight from him for even so much as a millisecond.

White could never bring himself to make eye contact with his boss. Hell, even after all these years he couldn't recall a single time that his eyes had ventured up any further than those spats. Sometimes it was purple house shoes, sometimes chalk-white bare feet. Whenever the Joker addressed them as a group, his eyes went instantly to the floor and he tried his damnedest to stay towards the back. While others tried to rise in the ranks, White kept himself invisible. He never spoke unless it was absolutely necessary and even then he said as little as possible.

White knew that despite all the time he had spent working under him, regardless of all the pain and suffering that he had undergone on various heists, the Joker had absolutely no idea who he was. To him, White was just another one of the new guys. This might upset some people, but it was exactly the way White wanted things and he intended to keep it that way.

The Joker was known for being wild and spontaneous, but the routine was never truly that different for White. It really didn't matter where or when a job was pulled or what gimmick was being played, all that mattered was that he did exactly as he was told. The only two true distinctions were whether the job was just a run-of-the-mill "we're really running out of funds" gig or a planned battle with the Bat. He hated those, mostly because he was forced to wear that stupid make-up. They were unavoidable though, so he'd psyche himself up and try not to get beaten too badly.

The important thing was that he was able to keep out-of-sight, out-of-mind. So long as he knew what to expect, White had no problems and nothing within the past five years had really thrown him a curve ball…until now.

White had no idea where she'd come from and he really didn't care. All he knew was that women normally spelled trouble and any kind of woman the boss was interested in had to mean tons of it.

He'd showed up to 'work' like he was supposed to, just as he'd done a hundred times before, only to be met with some chick dressed in red and black. (She apparently dug the clown look too.) There was no explanation, no introduction. It was as though she'd always been there, like some fixture in the room he just hadn't noticed yet.

_I think I'd have noticed you, doll,_ White caught himself thinking. His eyes widened as he realized the danger that mere thought represented and instantly dropped his gaze to the floor again. _Yup, my shoes are still white. Good to know._

The whole situation made him very uneasy. One little thing could change the status quo he had become accustomed to and this was no little thing. Since when was the boss interested in 'company' anyway? Was he supposed to listen to her too…or would that just make the boss mad? God, he hated this. With any luck she would end up very dead, very quickly.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Everyday White showed up hoping the clown girl wouldn't be there. (Whether due to an untimely death or just because she came to her senses mattered very little to him.) But each day he was disappointed to find her still waiting on the Joker hand and foot.

He had managed to gather that her name was Harley only because the Joker bellowed for her a lot. What puzzled him the most was why the boss kept her around at all. The broad had only been there about two weeks and it was pretty clear to White that she drove him nuts. That's all I need, he thought, the boss to be crazier than he already is.

What's more, this girl snatched the spotlight away from the Joker in more ways than one. Sure she had a nice figure, but beyond that Harley thoroughly enjoyed being the center of attention whenever she could get it. Sometimes she'd distract everyone by doing fancy flips and jumps about the room. She'd shout things like "Kawasaki" or "Suzuki" as she kicked the air at her invisible enemies. There were even times when Harley would speak out of turn, and some sort of physical punishment by the Joker always followed this, but she was still breathing.

If White didn't know better, he'd say that his boss was going easier on her because she was a skirt. Now, while White would always do what was necessary to complete an assigned mission, he tried to avoid putting women in harms way, especially if they happened to cut a nice dress. It wasn't always avoidable, but he did what he could. The Joker had no such convictions…or convictions of any kind for that matter. The more victims, the more he pissed off the Bat. The more he pissed off the Bat, the happier he was.

So what made this girl so special?

It soon became clear that they were going to be facing another Bat-battle pretty soon. White was expected to show up more often than when preparing for a regular heist. He probably just wants to show off his new play thing, White complained silently.

The planning was pretty in-depth, to the point where the Joker handed out scripts as though they were about to embark onto some sort of stage production. White really didn't see the point, as the vast majority of the lines belonged to the Joker himself, but he had long ago stopped trying to make sense of his boss. Instead, he enjoyed the befuddled expressions of the newbies as they were handed their copies. The new guys were always a riot.

White could tell the boss was really excited about this one. He was very animated during his performance as he read his lines to the group. Harley encouraged everyone to cheer and clap at certain places as she gazed at him adoringly, and when he was finished they all gave him a standing ovation. Harley jumped up and down shouting, "Encore! Encore!" as the Joker soaked it all in.

After the Joker carefully explained that this had to go off without a hitch, and threatened anyone he thought might jeopardize it, one of the new guys naively raised his hand. Here we go, thought White as he shuffled further toward the back of the group.

The Joker turned sharply toward the poor chump. "Do we have a question?"

The henchman had already realized his mistake by this point, and was obviously trying to think of a way out of the situation, but nothing came to mind. He looked to his buddies for help, but they didn't seem terribly interested in running to his aid.

"Well question-guy, we're all waiting!" the Joker stated impatiently, acting as though everyone in the room must be as irritated as he was.

"W-well boss, sir, it's just th-that there are lines here f-for Batman too," the thug eventually stammered out.

"I assume you have a point or do you just enjoy stating the obvious?" the Joker asked dryly, clearly annoyed.

Oh look, White thought dully. My shoes are untied.

"I-I guess I was just wondering, h-how do you know the Bat is g-gonna say his lines?" They were the last words he'd ever speak.

Harley gasped. "I didn't think of that Puddin'!"

The Joker immediately tensed and angrily snatched hold of one of the ears to Harley's headpiece. He turned back to the henchman with Harley in hand. "Ever hear of improv?" the Joker questioned the dead man. "Allow me to demonstrate." He lunged at the hired help as everyone around him scattered and, with his free hand, the Joker plunged a megawatt joy buzzer into his eye socket. "Improv. See? It's not that difficult," he instructed the smoking flesh coldly.

He then screamed for everyone to get out and White made a quick exit with the others. As he left, he caught his boss dragging Harley along by her headpiece out of the corner of his eye. The Joker turned a corner too sharply and Harley's face met with the wall.

"Of course Ratman has lines! How am I supposed to perform if my straight man just stands there? What kind of moron doesn't get that!" he ranted to himself, Harley in tow. He suddenly stopped, remembering she was there, and lifted her to eye level. "And was I mistaken, or did you not AGREE with him!"

"Oh Puddin', I'm just not the genius you are," Harley rambled quickly, desperate to try and explain away her indiscretion. "But I'm tryin' really hard. Improv, I get it now."

She was learning quickly. Flattery was one of the best means of settling him down. Unfortunately, she'd had the gall to question him in public and no amount of flattery was going to save her tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

White had arrived at Gotham Zoo earlier than he needed to for a number of reasons. He wanted to get a pretty good feel for the layout, plan the best escape routes, and he'd honestly rather not travel here with the boss if he could avoid it.

The zoo was kind of creepy after hours. The animals were more active and alert to his presence. Then again, he was probably just on edge thinking about what was to come. He absently wondered why these things could never take place somewhere normal. Whatever happened to a good old-fashioned bank robbery?

As 'showtime' approached, White knew he couldn't put it off any longer and groaned at the can of white grease paint in his hand. He heard some of the guys approaching just as he finished applying the makeup. They were here to set up before the Joker arrived but many of them looked as though they had already had a run in with the Bat and were nursing some wounds. Henshaw, who was even larger than White, had an unconscious woman in a black body suit draped over his shoulder.

White tossed a crooked smile at the group. "Haveta admit, didn't think you guys would be able to pull it off."

"It was a choice between takin' her down or comin' back to the boss empty handed. No way we weren't gonna pull it off," Henshaw grunted back. At that moment, the woman started to groan as she tried to lift herself up, but Henshaw quickly gave her a blow to the head and she slumped over again silently.

"Let's get this over with. I'd rather not have to deal with her awake," White stated wisely.

They reached the area of the zoo reserved for African habitats and halted at the Lion exhibit, which was a large pit with high walls. Thankfully none of the animals were present at the time having been placed in their evening enclosure. After entering the pitted area, they tied the woman to an exotic-looking tree that had obviously been placed there for realism and double-checked the bonds to ensure improbability of escape. White moved around toward the back of the tree where her hands were locked together.

"What're ya doin'?" Henshaw asked.

White emerged with the woman's black gloves. "Just makin' sure she don't get away by removin' these." He waved the clawed gloves at the others. "…Or do you wanna tangle with Catwoman again?"

"How's it coming, boys?" the Joker bellowed above them from the wall, having just arrived.

"All set boss!" Henshaw yelled back.

"Actually, um, we may have a problem," another member of the group shouted up after entering the pit from the back, where the animals were kept.

"Didn't I say this had to go off without a hitch? I swear to God I said that! HARLEY! …Where'd that fool girl run off to now?" Joker looked around furiously but she was nowhere to be seen. "I don't have time for this! What seems to be the problem down there?"

"Well, sir…I was just checkin' the lions…they're not…ya really should come see…"

The others followed the bearer of bad news to see what seemed to be the hold up, except for one who stayed behind to keep an eye on Catwoman. Joker angrily stomped his way down to the evening enclosure, grumbling all they way, and arrived to find many lions waiting for him, but they were hardly what he had envisioned. Instead of ferocious beast, they appeared to be nothing more than overgrown housecats. Most were just sleeping.

"See what I mean, boss? They don't look like the man-eatin' sort." The henchman cautiously reached between the bars of the cage and stroked one of the large animals. It didn't seem to notice. "Hey! Check me out!"

"Cool! Let me try!" Another member of the group knelt down to make an attempt.

"What are you, FIVE?" the Joker shouted at them, now completely at wits end. Both henchmen quickly retracted their hands and stood up.

Joker stalked around the perimeter of the cage. "This is indeed a problem. Look what society has done to them!" he began, dramatically. "These wild beasts were never intended to be locked in a cage. It's taken the fight out of them. I should know! That is why it is _essential_ to become that much more difficult after being placed under lock and key. You have to make up for what has been taken away from you. You must stick it to the man!" He was preaching his heart out to the animals, but all he received was a yawn from one of the larger females.

Then he snapped. "WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH YOU!"

He jabbed his foot between the bars and kicked the nearest animal. It quickly jumped to its feet and growled, very unhappy at such a rude awakening. The Joker's grin grew immediately. He dashed to the other side of the cage and reached in, yanking the nearest tail he could find, his hand ducking out before the tail's owner could take a swipe at him. Now the cage was becoming alive. All the animals had awoken and several were pacing back and forth, eying those on the outside.

"Boys, I think they just lacked the proper motivation. Just…poke them with sticks or something until the Bat gets here," the Joker instructed vaguely as he made an exit.

Joker found Harley wandering around, obviously looking for where she had misplaced him. He whistled for her and she made her way to him excitedly.

"Everything is right on track, no thanks to you. Where've you been anyway?" he asked as she bounded within earshot.

"I got distracted. You haveta-"

"Distracted? But that's so unlike you, Harl," he interrupted sarcastically.

Undaunted, she started pulling on his coat. "Please Puddin'! You haveta come see!"

He surveyed the area and saw no sign of Batman. Everything _was_ in place already… "Alright Harley, but it had better be quick."

Harley led the Joker by the hand past several exhibits until she reached her destination. Joker found himself in front of a pack of cackling hyenas with Harley bouncing on the balls of her feet pleading, "Can I have one? Can I have one? Oh please, please, please!"

He gave her an affectionate pat on the head, replying in a honeyed voice, "We'll see, sugarlips. Maybe if you're a very good girl today."

"Oh, I will be Mistah J! I promise!"

* * *

Back at the enclosure, several of the Joker's henchmen had taken his orders literally and picked out a few long sticks from the pitted area to jab at the cats with. This worked for a while until the animals started reaching through the bars with their paws, trying to put an end to their frustration. After one of the boys was actually clawed in the arm a new tactic was decided on.

They each gathered a number of stones and returned to fling them at the animals. Somewhere along the way it had developed into a game where you got a certain number of points depending on where you made a hit. White landed a blow to one of the beasts' noses. "TWENTY-FIVE POINTS!" everyone roared, including the lion.

At that moment, one of them stopped, a grim realization set on his face. "One of us," he began slowly, "is going to have to open the door between this enclosure and the outside." They all stopped as this revelation sunk in and the guy continued, "So…which one of us is it going to be?"

"I nominate you," said Henshaw.

"WHY ME?" he shot back and was offered many answers from several of his teammates including: "Because the lion's like you better", "Because nobody likes you", and "Because I'll kick your ass if you don't!"

He gave each remark a proper response. "The lion's don't like me better; I just nailed that one in the eye. I don't care if nobody likes me, and I'd rather you kick my ass than get mauled."

In the end it was decided that Joe, the member of the crew watching Catwoman, would be the lucky guy to open the door. The reasons behind their decision were quite logical: After all, they were doing the work while he got to stare at a chick with a nice rack. That and he wasn't around to defend himself.

At that moment, Joe had just poked his head in. "The boss said to get out here quick. It's the Bat."

Everyone immediately dropped the stones they'd been hurling at the lions and rushed out, White stopping just long enough to tell Joe the bad news. "You have to stay here and release the lions," he imparted, and quickly made his exit before Joe could protest, only to find the guy following him.

"Why me?" Joe pleaded.

White shrugged. "Hey, don't if you don't wanna, but you'll have to deal with the boss afterwards."

Joe was stuck.

* * *

Joker's goons had all gathered together in front of him and were obviously antsy.

"We saw him swoopin' this way. …He should be here soon…" Harley reported nervously. Suddenly her first encounter with Batman didn't feel as exciting as it did a few minutes ago.

She wasn't worried about getting wailed on. Lord knows that happened to her enough as it was. The prospect of being locked up and separated from her Joker did bother her some, but that was bound to happen sooner or later anyway. Nothing could be done about it. What really bothered her was the sheer importance the approaching figure had in Joker's mind. As his doctor, it hadn't taken long for her to see just how obsessed he was…probably as obsessed as she was about him. What if she didn't make the impression Mistah J wanted?

Her stomach started to swim. In fact, she felt downright ill. Joker glanced over at her and could see what was coming. Harley suddenly turned and hung her head over the pit. She desperately hoped her nerves had gone out with the other contents of her stomach.

She lifted her head again and found a very pissed off Joker glaring back at her. He was already fed up with the delays today and he did indeed want to make a certain impression on Bats, one that did not include a frightened little girl for a sidekick. She recoiled as he lifted his hand, waiting for the strike, but his expression immediately softened instead.

He patted her on the back. "You're going to do just fine, pumpkin pie," he consoled her. After all, if he wanted her to straighten up for Bats' arrival, making her _more_ nervous was counter-productive.

His encouragement, however phony, made Harley feel like she could take on anything. And no sign of fear showed through as she put her best game face on when Batman approached.

"You found me! How about that!" Joker remarked with a laugh as Batman stalked toward the group.

"You didn't exactly make it difficult," Batman responded. He had received a message moments earlier from Gordon that simply read: _Meet me at Gotham Zoo. See if you can wrap your detective skills around that. –J_

"Yes, well, it's not easy constantly coming up with new material for you. Besides, I put all my thought into this set up." He spread his arms in a wide gesture.

Batman looked at Harley Quinn inquisitively.

"I see you've noticed my new counterpart," Joker continued. "Well, you know what they say: Behind every great homicidal man, there's a great homicidal gal. Of course, it would be impossible to find someone that matched _my_ greatness, so I had to settle for Harley here."

Harley kept her best face on, but grimaced inwardly. She hated that part in the script, and had tried to get him to change it repeatedly without result.

Batman was obviously through talking and charged the twenty-odd henchmen protecting the Joker, White gritting his teeth as the fight began.

White had done this enough times to know that he was not going to be giving Batman anything to worry about. At one point, he had considered faking his attempts to hopefully save himself from a beating. After all, who would know the difference? Somehow though, it didn't feel right. He had never been able to figure out why he was willing to do so many of the things he did, but this particular issue was crossing some line.

Batman didn't give White much time to think about it. He was knocked unconscious fairly quickly.

When the troops were beginning to run thin, Harley entered the fray. Batman wasn't expecting her to be so athletically gifted and she was able to land some substantial blows. As Batman stepped up his game, the fight drifted father and farther away from the Joker.

Joker frantically waved and jumped up and down, trying to remind everyone he was still there. It didn't seem to do any good though. Apparently Batman considered Harley the bigger threat at the moment. Well, he'd just have to change that.

Joker pulled out his gun and pointed it at the caped crusader. As Joker was lining up his shot, it occurred to him that he had not even gotten to Catwoman or the lions. It would be a shame to waste all that ingenuity. He sighed, pointed his gun nonchalantly into the air, and pulled the trigger.

The sudden blast echoed across the zoo and caused many animals to vocalize in protest. Both Harley and Batman froze.

"Nice to have your attention," Joker drawled, not hiding his disgust. He snapped his fingers and Harley cart wheeled immediately to his side. "I know it is often awkward for such old friends to introduce new ones. We are so set in our ways after all. I thought it'd be easier if we doubled!" Joker turned to the pit behind him. "Down there is your kitty. She's stuck up a tree and doesn't look too happy about it."

He was quite right. Catwoman, by this time, had woken up and was struggling against her restraints. "You had better hope I don't get free, clown!" she screamed up threateningly.

Joker rolled his eyes.

Batman was rushing to her aid as Joker sat himself on the edge of the wall, trying his best to cast a regal demeanor. Harley sat next to him as they surveyed the scene and nodded to each other. Joker thrust his arm straight out in front of him and dramatically gave a thumbs down.

Joe released the lions and ran screaming like a maniac, arms over his head. A few of the guys lying on the ground behind Joker and Harley had come to at this point, including White, and were giving him encouragement from above.

"Run Joe! Run!" yelled White.

"No! Play dead! I saw that on TV once," said Henshaw.

"I think that's for bears," added another.

Batman, ever the hero, moved to save Joe from his plight. After catching the fleeing man, he used his grapple to reach the top of the wall and deposited Joe on the ledge. Joe fell flat on the ground, panting, while White and the others circled around him.

"You okay, man?" White asked.

"I hate all of you," he panted.

The lions were momentarily at a loss at the disappearance of their prey, but Catwoman's struggling caught their attention rather quickly and they headed for her. She instinctively closed her eyes and pushed herself further against the tree as the first lion was about to make its attack, but Batman threw his entire body at the animal, slamming it into the ground. Following this, he attempted to free her from her bonds, but it was difficult trying to ward off the animals' attacks and release Catwoman at the same time.

Joker was above, calling the show before him as though he were a sports caster. Harley was getting into the spirit of things as well and started pulling a cheerleading act for the lions. That's when it happened.

Harley was doing various cartwheels and wishing she had thought to bring some pom-poms when she innocently shouted to those below, "Whazza matta? Cat got your tongue?" It was simply one of the many things that had come to mind while she was performing on the ledge and she spout it out, thinking it was rather funny given the situation.

Joker instantly got to his feet and spat, "We're leaving! NOW!"

Everyone was fairly confused given the situation. Joe was taken back the most based on the ordeal he just suffered through. "But boss…why?" he asked, still lying on the ground.

Joker shot the man without a second glance as he stalked toward the exit. No one else asked any questions.

White was the driver for the Joker and Harley, as it was his turn to keep watch tonight, and he couldn't help but hear what was being said in the back of the car.

Harley was still oblivious to her boss' anger and pleased with her first performance. She was going over pieces in her mind and out loud, trying to decide what went well and what she could improve on. The Joker sat in dark silence.

"…Cat got your tongue? …Bat got your tongue?" she mumbled to herself, mulling it over. "Well, I guess either would have worked tonight, huh Mistah J?" she giggled.

He hit her over the head with the butt of his gun and the rest of the drive was in silence.


	4. Chapter 4

White was relieved that it was all over. He'd managed to get through the ordeal with nothing but minor injuries and, more importantly, avoided capture. Even better, the night had been a complete success, so he was looking forward to a good sum of money. (They were always paid more when the Bat was involved.) To top it all off, it looked like White was finally going to get his wish: There was no way the boss was going to let Harley off the hook this time. White had never seen the Joker leave the Bat when he had the upper hand.

After such a successful run with Batman like tonight, the boss was usually on cloud nine. However, things didn't exactly go as scripted. White assumed that the introduction of Harley took Batman understandably by surprise, so, in effect, the night turned out to be more about Harley Quinn than the Joker. And, for whatever reason, Harley's final comment really rubbed him the wrong way.

Upon arriving at the hideout, White opened the back door of the car for his boss and Joker exited, dragging an unconscious Harley by her ankle, her head meeting each curb and pot hole on their way to the door.

After they had disappeared into their room, White set up a game of solitaire to help him keep awake for his watch. There was a TV provided for them, but White avoided using it: He'd heard too many horror stories. Like the time they'd arrived in the morning and found the watch guy dead, followed by instructions from the boss on appropriate volume level. Or the time the person on watch found a late night Three Stooges marathon and the boss spent the entire evening with him.

No, it was better to stick with what he knew was safe. As he began his game, White wondered if he would prefer to end up killed by his boss or to be forced into a social situation with him.

Harley had come to and was very confused as to how she had angered her Puddin'. Everything had been going so well! She quickly realized how bruised she was as she tried to lift herself off the floor where he'd apparently left her. "Puddin'?" she asked meekly in the hopes of an explanation.

Joker was sitting behind his desk in dark thought. Upon hearing her voice, he straightened up and placed in hands together so that each fingertip met. He had the look of some employer that was about to lecture one of his underlings. Harley could barely make out his face as he sat in deep shadow.

"Tonight was a fiasco," he began evenly.

Harley tried to sit herself up to protest, but she was sore all over and it proved too difficult. She conceded to having to make her argument from her position on the floor, as degrading as it was. "But Puddin, everything went accordin' to plan," she explained.

Joker leaned over his desk and his features were in full view as he corrected her with growing anger, "Everything WAS going according to plan until you had to ad-lib!"

Now she was really confused. "…But Puddin', it was just improv...like you said…I mean, it was funny, right?"

Joker stood up from his seat and slowly made his way toward Harley as he continued, "No Harley, it wasn't. In fact, it was downright corny. Are you honestly suggesting that you are ready to handle improv? Are you honestly suggesting that you're at MY level?"

She quickly shook her head as best she could despite the aching in her neck. Harley understood her mistake now, and if she wasn't busy fearing what was about to come, she'd be in tears over embarrassing her Puddin' on a night that was so important.

His expression suddenly changed as he reached where she was sprawled on the floor. "Awww, does my Harleykins not feel so good?" he asked with a look of mock pity.

"Uh-huh," Harley replied, trying to pout with the hope that he might go easier on her if she played along.

Joker's face went cold once again. "That's because I took to punishing you before you woke up. But what's the point in that?" he laughed. "You didn't learn anything and it wasn't nearly as satisfying for me."

He swiftly kicked her in the gut and Harley doubled over into a fetal position with a groan. "See?" Joker smiled. "That's much better." And he did it again.

White heard the commotion from the other room and realized he didn't need to worry about falling asleep on the job tonight. No way was that going to happen with all the racket. He wished the boss would just make it quick. How ironic that White had wanted her gone and now he'd have to hear it happening.

This went on and off for a few hours. White assumed the 'off' periods were due mainly to Harley's unconsciousness. This worried him though. Was the boss not going to finish her? Every time Harley fell silent, White would pray that was the last they'd hear from her, and every time his prayer was ignored.

* * *

 

White didn't see Harley for a few days after his night watch, no one did, and he vainly hoped this was because she was no longer there to see. He quickly realized this wasn't the case though, because at each meal the boss would put two plates together and take them to the back room that served as his private quarters.

 _Was he actually nursing her back to health?_ White thought incredulously. That surely couldn't be the case, but curiosity was taking the better of him. He cursed himself for being weak. One of White's saving graces was that he usually ignored any thoughts of curiosity and minded his own business. He'd been so careful; surely indulging himself this one time wouldn't affect anything.

So, one day, after Joker had put together a plate for his counterpart, White stood up and feigned stretching. He nonchalantly walked passed the door to the back room as his boss entered it and glanced inside to see Joker toss the plate onto a tray on the bed the woman was recuperating in. Bits of food flew off the plate, spattering Harley, and the Joker continued on to his desk.

 _…Well…That's sorta nursin'…I guess…for the boss anyway_ , White decided, with the realization that this woman wasn't going anywhere anytime soon and he'd better adapt.

White's turn for night watch was more frequent than it had been in recent days. After the incident at the zoo, a lot of the guys didn't show back up. Through gossip, White had found out the Bat had taken some in that night while others had simply had enough, and, as a result, White was forced to keep watch once a week until new help was hired.

His night had come up again and he started setting up his game of solitaire as he always did. It was rather quiet and, after a few rounds of his game, White was beginning to worry that he wouldn't be able to stay awake for his shift, when suddenly he heard a door open from the back and footsteps approaching him. Expecting it to be the boss, he quickly wiped the sleep from his eyes and made sure it seemed like he was intent on his duty.

Much to his surprise, the figure that came into view was Harley in what was apparently her first venture out since the incident at the zoo. She walked with a bit of a limp as she headed for the kitchen, he assumed in search of food. Shockingly, the skin that was revealed to White was covered in bruises and he couldn't help but gawk at battered woman. Much like when one notices an individual with a deformity, he hadn't realized he was staring until the woman looked back at him, obviously displeased.

"What're you lookin' at?" she demanded. White tried to stammer out an apology, but almost instantly his boss was heard from the back room.

"WHO'S LOOKING AT YOU?" Joker thundered.

White wasn't the kind of person that froze when frightened. In his field, that kind of thing got you killed. He ran. Fast. And that's exactly what this occasion called for. He quickly jumped to his feet, knocking over the table in front of him along with all of his cards, then rushed out the door and down the street without looking back.


	5. Chapter 5

"Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, why'd you have to stare?" White cursed himself as he ran. "Why'd she have to make a big deal about it?" he blamed her. But mostly, he kept thinking, What do I do now?

To say White didn't sleep that night would be unnecessary. It wasn't that he really thought his boss was going to go out of his way to track him down. The Joker tended to get distracted easily unless it was something he truly deemed worthy of interest, and White knew the incident that night was not enough to put him on the boss's radar, much less at the top of his list. Hell, the boss didn't even get a look at him. I could probably march back in there right now and there'd be no way I'd be targeted, he realized. No, White's problem wasn't Joker; it was that woman he was worried about.

He didn't know Harley nearly well enough to make any kind of predictions about her. On one hand, her attention was strictly placed on the Joker, so she may not have registered much about him at all. On the other hand, something about her seemed very perceptive, especially when it came to people.

White pondered his next move all night long. When the sun rose, he faced the day and, for the first time in five years, he didn't know what to do with himself. He had a good thing going where he was and he knew it'd take him ages to figure out another boss as well as he had the Joker. Should he go back or move on?

Experience had taught White that returning to the scene of the crime was always a bad idea. To go back and pretend that nothing had happened and hope everything fell into place was beyond idiotic. Better to be out on the streets than dead. But White had an idea that might make it possible, or at least give him a better feel of the situation. He had a phone call to make.

White liked Henshaw about as much as you could get to like another person in his field. He had a certain amount of longevity with the Joker himself, having developed his own tactics. Basically, Henshaw jumped from boss to boss when things started to look shady for him. By the time he got back to a previous employer, they'd forgotten who he was. This was Henshaw's third stint with the Joker and White was always glad to see him return. He was professional but didn't take any of it too seriously, which was probably why he was able to get up and move on to the next thing so easily.

Henshaw was in the middle of a card game with a group of his cohorts, and doing rather well, when he heard his cell phone ringing. "What's up?" he answered the call as he continued to play.

"Hey, it's me," White replied, hoping he didn't sound as nervous as he felt.

"White! Where are you, man? I'm bankin' over here. You should come over so I can wipe you clean too."

White paused. This wasn't the response he had expected. "I heard what happened! The boss is pissed! Get out of town!" would have been much more appropriate.

"You still there?" Henshaw asked due to White's delay.

"I'm here. Listen, didn't you hear what happened last night?"

"Somethin' happened? Say, didn't you have watch last night?"

"Y-yeah, I…" White stammered in confusion. "Didn't the boss say anything? Y'know, like demand to know whose shift it was last night?"

Henshaw raised his hand to pause the game, got up, and left the room to give himself more privacy. "What happened?" he asked in concern.

"Nothin', it's so stupid."

"It always is."

"The boss really hasn't said anything?"

"Nope and I'd know if he had. I've been here all day. What's goin' on?"

"…Maybe nothin'. I could be overreactin'. Do you think it'd be safe for me to head over there?"

"As far as I can see, yeah, but you know the boss better'n me. And don't think I'm gonna be stickin' my neck out for you if things get messy."

"Yeah, yeah, I know: Every man for himself."

"Damn straight."

Following this conversation, White made the decision to go over and test the waters. If the boss hadn't even mentioned the incident in an attempt to discover the culprit, it didn't sound like he had anything to worry about.

When he arrived, he found the group still immersed in their game, desperately trying to win some of their money back from Henshaw. White looked around cautiously and approached the table they were playing at. White half expected something to have happened by now, but when he reached the others he was still in one piece. White smiled at Henshaw and shrugged. Henshaw shrugged back. "You in?" he asked.

"What the hell," White answered and made himself comfortable.

They had been playing for about an hour and Henshaw was beginning to regret inviting White, as his winnings streak seemed to be slowing down, when Joker emerged from the back. White froze as his boss stopped and looked at the group. The game had come to halt as they awaited instructions. At length, Joker nodded toward the door and they all grinned, as they knew that to be the signal allowing them to leave. White exited with everyone else and was feeling pretty good about himself as they walked out of the alley and onto the street. Unfortunately, that was when they bumped into Harley.

Since she wasn't in costume, White figured she must have been out running an errand of some sort. Harley was sent out for that sort of thing often because she tended to blend in well as she was still pretty new to the game and didn't look very threatening. White made no mistake this time and made sure his gaze didn't fall anywhere near the woman. However, trying to remain invisible didn't seem to work as well on her as it did the Joker; Harley recognized him instantly.

She pointed at him and said, "You stay. The rest of you can go."

White gave Henshaw a pleading look and he responded by muttering, "What'd I tell you, man," leaving White on his own.

* * *

 

"You're either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid," Harley immediately tore into White.

"Yes, ma'am," was the only response he could think of.

"Well, which is it? Brave or stupid?"

"…I'm feelin' pretty stupid right 'bout now, ma'am," he admitted, but failed to add 'scared shitless'. Deciding he was as good as dead at that point anyway, trying to explain his indiscretion couldn't possibly make him any deader and just might save him. "I wasn't checkin' you out last night."

Harley smiled softly and struck a seductive pose. "Why not? Dontcha like what ya see?"

White's mind panicked as he thought, How the hell do I answer that?

Harley relaxed her position and laughed at the look on his face. "I'm just messin' with ya. I know you weren't lookin' me over. That wasn't the kind of look you give someone you're interested in. …Do I look that bad?" she asked genuinely.

"Um…I've seen worse," he rambled quickly. "My sister hooked up with this world class asshole. Roughed her up a lot. She didn't wear it as nice as you though." White was relieved that she didn't seem angry, but wasn't at all comfortable with the conversation. He didn't want to get personal.

Harley fell silent and seemed to stare out into space, lost in thought. She hadn't given him the freedom to leave, but she wasn't doing anything either. White broke the silence by trying to ask what was foremost on his mind. "So, uh, the boss…I mean…he doesn't…"

Harley woke up from her daydream at his stammering. "Oh no. You're fine. When you looked at me like that…it just upset me. I didn't mean to get you in any trouble. I covered for ya."

White exhaled deeply as though he hadn't taken a breath since the incident and Harley laughed. "You poor thing! Get out of here and go relax."

"Yes, ma'am!" he said happily as he headed off. "Thank you, ma'am!"

He met Henshaw at their regular dive down near the docks. White couldn't help but look smug at his friend's shocked expression.

"I don't know what happened between you two," Henshaw stated, "But I sure as hell didn't think I'd see you again after how worked up you were earlier."

"Worked up? Nah, everything's cool. I wasn't worried," White responded confidently.

"You're so full of shit," Henshaw laughed and then bought his friend a drink.

White knew he had gotten lucky this time, but he'd also learned a few things. Harley wasn't the complete mystery that she had been a mere day ago and she wasn't at all like the boss. The boss never demonstrated things like pity, mercy, or…well…anything decent folks should. _Not that I could really consider myself a decent person_ , White reflected. But there were degrees to these things and, whereas the boss stayed firmly off the charts, Harley seemed to be hanging on to some extent. White wasn't sure if that meant good or bad things for him, but he did know it was time to pull back a bit. He had inadvertently stepped into the light and needed to become invisible once again.


	6. Chapter 6

Everything quickly fell into a pattern that White was very familiar with, which pleased him more than he thought possible. He was back where he needed to be, or so he assumed as no one had given him any undue attention. This whole process always began the same way: the old guys betting which of the new guys would go first. As much as it may disgust most people, White loved this game. Having been there the longest, he always won and they long ago stopped actually placing money on the bets and just watched him pick the winner, or in this case, loser of the lot. It was easy to see who the newcomers were as they kept to themselves for the most part and were rather cautious.

"So who's it gonna to be this time?" Tag asked White eagerly. Everyone watched as White sized up each of the candidates while throwing out their own observations, hoping he'd take them into consideration. After a few minutes had passed, White pointed out the doomed man he had chosen. He was a small, rather wiry and very nervous character that seemed ready to jump out of his shoes at the drop of a hat as he fidgeted with his coat, while darting his eyes warily back and forth. He would have stuck out anywhere but in their surroundings he did so all the worse.

"Nah, man, nah," Tag disagreed. "You've always said that the cocky ones were the first to go and that the boss likes to keep the jumpy ones around a little longer. He thinks they're funny."

"Yeah, I know, but this guy takes the cake," White explained. "The boss will want to wait and play with him a little, he really will, but this one stands out too much. The boss won't be able to help himself. You wait and see. I give 'im four days tops, unless he leaves first of course."

Henshaw snapped his fingers as though he'd just realized something. "I just figured out where I know that guy from! We worked together once under Scarecrow. Man, he never came out of that quite right."

"What's his name?" White asked.

"Hell if I remember and why should it matter? Accordin' to you he's a dead man anyway."

"We can't go around calling him 'dead man' though. That'll mess him up."

"He looks pretty messed up to me already. Watch this," Henshaw whispered. He picked a spoon up off a nearby table and when 'dead man' had his back turned he flung it at him, hitting one of his shoulder blades. 'Dead man' jumped and did what appeared to be a funny dance as he circled in place, trying to figure out what just hit him.

The others laughed at this spectacle as White immediately came up with the perfect name. "I think we should call him Twitchy," he said and joined the laughter of those around him.

Normally when rebuilding a group such as this one, whoever the boss may be liked to make a little speech to ensure understanding of how things are supposed to work. Threats usually do the trick nicely. However, this was never part of the Joker's routine, who seemed to regard those he employed little worth the time of day, forcing them to adopt a 'sink or swim' attitude. As such, White was not surprised to see the boss make a brief appearance and look those around him over without interest. (Although White had caught a glimmer in his eyes upon discovering Twitchy). He quickly waved them off in a manner that said, "Do whatever it is you people do until I need you." Harley had followed behind him and singled White out by giving him a smile and a happy wave.

White's eyes grew and quickly darted toward the Joker to see if he had caught the gesture. Thankfully he had not, but Henshaw had and leaned over to his friend whispering, "What the hell was that?"

"I'm leaving," White squeaked. "Right now." He carefully made his way back outside into the alley, making sure he didn't attract any attention to himself. Henshaw followed closely behind him, not because he was trying to be supportive; he was simply, and understandably, very curious. If either man had looked behind them, they'd have seen Harley was rather confused as to White's quick departure after she had striven to be so friendly.

Once outside, White briskly made his escape from the hideout muttering "stupid bitch" under his breath.

"Alright, something is definitely goin' on and I wanna hear it. Didja do her?" Henshaw asked excitedly.

"Do you think I'm a fuckin' moron!" White demanded.

Henshaw seemed disappointed at that response. "Fine. So what did happen?"

"Nothing! Nothing happened! That's why this is so fuckin' stupid!" White ranted loudly.

At that moment they both heard the feminine voice of Harley call out to them: "Hey! What's your problem?"

Henshaw whipped around but continued walking, now backwards. "Oh my God, she's followin' us. What do we do?"

"Just keep walkin'," White said, beyond caring. "She's just a crazy bitch. You hear that?" he shouted behind him. "A crazy bitch!"

Henshaw instantly tensed at his friend's apparent loss of sanity and the look that Harley was now giving them. "I have a better idea. I'm gonna walk in the opposite direction of you as fast as possible. It was nice knowing ya." He quickly parted his friend, leaving him to his fate, though White didn't seem quite concerned about it.

"How dare you talk to me like that!" Harley yelled, now catching up.

"Like this: You're a crazy BITCH!" White responded and actually stopped to face her. "So what's it gonna be? You gonna kill me or are you gonna go back and get the boss? I'll wait here. Don't worry." He sat down on the curb of the sidewalk, defeated.

"I don't get you," Harley snapped angrily. "What makes you think I'd want you dead after I covered for you before?"

"Because you're goin' out of your way to get me killed. I'd like to get this over with quickly, although with the boss that's not very likely," White admitted, looking a bit nervous as his anger was subsiding.

"I'm not going to get him," she said sadly and confused as she sat down next to White.

"SEE? You're doin' it right now!" He waved her away. "Back off!"

"What?" she shouted in frustration. "What am I doing?"

"There are boundaries! Lines! Rules you aren't followin'! You people don't associate with my people. That's the way it works. If you start ignorin' that…things get messy. You're supposed to be treatin' me like scum and the fact that you aren't is makin' me very uncomfortable and will more than likely end with me six feet under." He sighed heavily before continuing. "Y'know, the fact that I'm havin' to explain this to you is only one example that proves you don't belong down here. Why don't you just go home?"

Harley's eyes began to water. "It's too late. I can't go back," she sniffed. Clearly she had already considered this option.

"Geez lady! Are you gonna cry? What is it you want from me! Do you think I owe you for givin' me a cover? I can deal with that. What can I do to make us square?"

"It's not like that!" she said, insulted. "I just…I guess I was just hoping I could find someone that I could talk to and wouldn't treat me like dirt. Clearly that is not going to happen here." She rose to her feet haughtily and, to her annoyance, White laughed.

"A friend? Is that what you were looking for? What the hell do you think this is? A clubhouse? We aren't nice people. I'M not a nice guy."

"You've made your point," she replied coolly. "See you around."

"Oh, I don't think you will. I'm not sure what I'm gonna to do, but I can't go back there."

"Yes, you can," she assured. "I'll treat you the way you want to be treated. At least you're explaining to me how this all works. Lord knows, no one else is. I guess that makes us square."

"Fine by me," White agreed.

* * *

 Most would probably think White foolish to be giving this yet another attempt. However, the facts were that any option available to him held the same future. White had no delusions about how his life would end. Few made it to retirement in his field. (Besides, he would have gladly returned only to see the look on Henshaw's face when he walked into the hideout the next day, which was priceless.)

Harley was true to her word and didn't give White so much as a second glance, or even a first for that matter. To say their last encounter had no effect on him wouldn't be true, but it wasn't in a positive way. Due to the naivety she had exhibited, she now came across as silly and out of place to him. (To be honest, she always had but he'd assumed it was part of her act.) He found it difficult to give her the respect that was expected of him and prayed that he could fake it well should the need arise.

Things had been quiet and they really hadn't been asked to pull anything major since Joker's return. He seemed to be in a good place and the help was full and relatively happy. White couldn't have been more relieved at this when a familiar face appeared, looking for a job. He was called Rumble and not much was known about him. What was known was that the guy was crazy. A real nutjob. He was one of the few that had actually been placed in the asylum along with the other freaks. It was generally understood that in Gotham you were bound to work for some crazies, but to have one working that close alongside you was something else all together.

So when Rumble entered the hideout, both White and Henshaw exchanged knowing glances and made to intercept him before he talked to the boss.

"You two ladies come to greet me? How nice!" Rumble began, knowing full well that was not their intent.

"Whatcha doin' here?" Henshaw wasted no time in idle chit chat and stretched himself out as much as he could to make very clear how much bigger he was.

"Oh, y'know, just lookin' for work. The J-man is always fun to work with. Really lets ya mess people up."

"The boss isn't lookin' for anybody new. Sorry," White flatly informed the man.

"Well, I don't know about that," Joker drawled, surprising the men as he came up behind them. "What do you bring to the table?" But to Joker's annoyance, Rumble suddenly seemed distracted by something on the floor. A large rat was scurry past the group's feet. Rumble held up his hand to pause the Joker, which he clearly found insulting, and White and Henshaw moved out of the way as things looked like the were going to become deadly.

Rumble didn't seem to notice the dangerous situation he was in as he pulled a large, worn knife from his pocket and skewered the rat in a split second. He then used the knife to hack off the rat's tail and, to the disgust of many, placed it in his mouth and slurped it up as though it were a piece of spaghetti.

After he finished his snack, he turned back to the Joker and calmly said, "I'm sorry. What was it you asked?"

Joker's anger had quickly subsided at the entertaining show and he grinned as he quickly replied, "You're hired. Be prepared to do that trick for me whenever I ask."

"Cool. But they said you were full up," he nodded toward White and Henshaw, who quickly darted their gaze in any direction other than their boss in an attempt to not appear the culprit.

"We can fix that," Joker commented in amusement, deciding to play along. He quickly cocked his gun and blasted the first henchman he saw. Unfortunately, it was Twitchy. "Goddammit!" he cursed and walked over to his broken toy. He nudged the body a bit with his foot in the vain hope he might jump up and then stalked away, thoroughly annoyed, when the body just laid there.

"Three days!" White quickly shouted in triumph after Joker left. "What'd I tell you?"

"That doesn't count!" Tag retaliated. "The boss didn't mean to kill him. Twitchy is just really unlucky."

"You mean he was really unlucky," Henshaw corrected as he started to haul the body away.

"It's not my fault the boss wasn't payin' attention," White continued to argue, but dropped it quickly when he saw Rumble beginning to make himself comfortable. "Ah hell."


	7. Chapter 7

It was White's turn at watch again and he began to set out his game of solitaire. It had been a still night when he first arrived. White was never sure if he preferred it quiet or not when he was on watch. Quiet and the boss didn't really go together and it was rather unnerving.

Around three in the morning, White felt himself starting to nod off. He had tried to shake the feeling away several times when he suddenly began to hear noises coming from the back. Whatever argument that had started grew loud quickly and was apparently becoming violent. Nothin' like a little domestic violence to wake a guy up… and it's a lot better than what I could be hearin', he thought with a shudder.

Shortly thereafter White heard a door open and Harley emerged from the back, clad in a skimpy sort of nightgown with a matching robe over it. Her face was puffy and pink with tears as she made her way past White to the stove. A peculiar and unpleasant smell accompanied her.

"You smell like shit," White commented bluntly. He no longer feared her after their last encounter. She came across as meek and knew that she didn't want to appear naïve to him again.

Harley scowled. "Well that's what happens when an iron is taken to your skin." She lifted the sleeve of her robe and revealed several places on her arm that were obviously burns from a clothing iron. "You don't like it? Take it up with him." She nodded in the direction of the back room and then began digging through a cupboard for a frying pan.

"No need for the attitude, princess," he smiled. White always loved getting a rise out of people. It was the bully in him, dating all the way back in grade school. "Any particular reason the boss is in such a pleasant mood or just the usual crap?"

"Not that it's any of your business," Harley began while still trying to fight back her tears, "but apparently I suck at ironing…and everything else. I singed some of his clothes." She would never admit it but she appreciated the opportunity to vent her frustration to somebody, even if it was a jerk like White.

"Who the hell can't iron? It's easy. How dumb do you have to be to…burn clothes…" White had intended to degrade her further, but his train of thought quickly took him down another track. "…What are you doing?"

"What's it look like I'm doing? I'm cooking. Mistah J wants bacon. It's after three in the morning…and he wants bacon," she said in disbelief and suddenly sat down in a chair adjacent to White and broke down. It was the last thing she wanted to do in front of him.

To her surprise though, White stood up and took over the stove. "I got it. Don't worry," he said gently. "You just…try to calm down."

"But-but why?" Harley asked as she choked on her sobs. "What happened to 'I'm not a nice guy'?"

"Want me to change my mind?" he snapped irritably. Harley fell silent and let him work. After a few tense minutes of hearing nothing but Harley sniffling and the sizzle of bacon, White felt like explaining himself.

"Remember when I told you about my sister? She couldn't iron, or cook, or keep house, or do anything for that asshole she hooked up with. The thing was, I knew she could do those things. She did them for me growin' up all the time."

"What happened?" Harley asked, thoroughly engaged.

"Well, when you got a bastard like that always harpin' on ya, always puttin' ya down, always sayin' it's not good enough, it rattles you. You start to get jumpy. You start to mess up. It's not your fault…just so y'know…" he faded off, his back the only thing facing her.

White's sad story somehow made Harley feel warm all over. She had been trying to tell herself something like that must have been the problem; she didn't remember always being such a screw up. But the more time she spent with Mistah J, the more she doubted herself and the more she waited for the next mistake she'd make. Harley wanted to thank the man that gave her back a little of herself so quickly. She wanted to hug him and tell him how much it meant, but she didn't think it proper nor did she have the opportunity.

"What the hell is taking so long?" the Joker bellowed from the other room.

White quickly dumped the bacon onto a plate and handed it to Harley, who tried to give him a look that said everything she was feeling but sure he wouldn't receive it. Surprisingly to her, he seemed to, but it wasn't a surprise to him at all; he had seen that look many times before. As she scurried off with the plate, White reflected on his impressions of the woman. First she was a mystery, then a threat, then a naïve little girl, and now…now she'd forever remind him of his sister and that was not a good thing at all.

* * *

White had just returned to the hideout following a minor heist. Others were dividing loot around him, but he headed straight for the TV and turned on the news. He was always wary of anything that could incriminate him personally and would look to see if he'd been identified in any way after committing a crime.

There was a small piece about the heist but it was still too early to tell anything from it. In fact, they didn't seem to realize there was any connection to the infamous Joker much less himself. Ironically, the following story informed the public of a former doctor from Arkham Asylum who should be considered armed and dangerous. A picture of Harleen Quinzel was seen in the top left hand corner of the screen.

Harley, up until now, had yet to get any media publicity. White figured that the asylum and cops were trying to keep it under wraps and find her before too much damage was done. This would, of course, hopefully help lead to the doctor's recovery and keep the citizens of Gotham from panicking. Though White thought that Gotham was pretty used to this stuff by now and it wouldn't really bother anyone. It did however make for a good story. Apparently Henshaw agreed.

"Bet the press is eatin' that up," he said while finding a crate to sit on. "Joker's secret lover, news at eleven! The ratings will be huge."

"Will you keep it down!" White hissed, as though they were being eavesdropped upon.

"You're always so jumpy. Calm down. The boss'd probably like it anyway." At that moment, Harley was merrily skipping toward the door apparently heading for some errand.

"Where're you goin'?" White asked with concern in his voice before catching himself. Harley turned and looked at him inquisitively. In fact, it seemed to White everyone was looking at him that way.

"Why do you care, man?" Henshaw whispered to him as though he was warning him to go no farther.

Harley eventually answered, "Ummm…I'm going to get some take-out. Why? You want sumthin'?"

"Ooh! Can we do that?" Henshaw asked her excitedly.

Harley shrugged. "I guess so. I don't mind." It turned out not to be such a good idea though, as everyone started shouting orders at her and she found herself having to write a list. The noise aroused Joker's curiosity who decided to see what was going on, only to find that Harley had not yet left on her assigned errand. Everyone quickly clammed up as he emerged in the room.

"What the hell are you still doing here?" he yelled at Harley. "Did I not make it clear that I was hungry?"

"Yessir, Mistah J. It's just the boys were hungry too. I was making a list," she explained as Joker snatched the paper from her and looked it over.

"No, no, no, no. It doesn't take a genius to see how much time this order will take, which means what?" he asked her carefully.

"…You'll have to wait longer?" she answered timidly.

"And do I like waiting?" He spoke to her as if she were a child that needed a line drawn to the proper conclusion.

"No sir," she said as her head sank to her chest.

"Who's idea was this?" he demanded of everyone and the entire room instantly pointed at White. Henshaw tried to put some extra distance between the two of them in an attempt to make it clear that he wasn't associated with him.

Joker made his way toward White, feeding off the fear he knew the man felt. White's gaze instantly fell toward the ground and only realized his boss reached him when his feet came into view. "Feeling peckish, are we?" the Joker asked dangerously.

"I-I wasn't askin' for food, boss. I was askin' where she was goin'. She was on the news just a minute ago." Without looking up he pointed at the television. Joker craned his head around as though he'd catch a glimpse of Harley on the screen, despite the fact it had been turned off. Henshaw nodded in conformation of the report. White continued to explain, "Everyone's gonna be lookin' for her and I didn't want her caught and traced back here is all."

Joker grunted in a fashion that White took to mean some kind of approval. "You!" he pointed to a random henchman. "Bring me food." His mood suddenly changed and he seemed rather chipper. "Well Harley, it looks like you just might make a name for yourself after all. But then, you're associated with me so I don't see how you couldn't."

Truthfully, Harley did look rather excited by the idea and as the Joker disappeared into the back once again, she dashed to White for details. She leaned far over the back of the ratty couch so that her feet were dangling in the air.

"What'd it say?" She could barely contain herself.

"…I don't know…stuff," White replied, confused at her euphoria.

"That's all I get? Stuff?"

"It definitely had stuff," Henshaw teased.

"Look, you need to take this seriously," White explained. "You can't just waltz around town no more. People will recognize you. You need to be careful."

"Awww, you worried about me?" she giggled.

"Maybe I just don't wanna go down with you," White corrected her.

Harley realized she wasn't going to get anymore out of him and gave a little clap while lightly kicking her feet in the air before sliding off the couch to follow Joker. She was much too enthralled to take White's warning seriously. Her appearance in the media meant only one thing to her: That she counted. That she mattered. And if the rest of the world thought that, maybe Mistah J would too.

After Harley left White's side, clearly untroubled by her new predicament, Henshaw astutely commented, "That broad ain't nothin' but trouble."

"Yeah," White agreed. "Someone should do something about that."


	8. Chapter 8

White had a lot to think about after Harley's existence had been made public. She never had come across as all that bright…or maybe she was just out of her element. Either way, she didn't know what she was doing and would eventually lead them into trouble. (Or trouble into them.)

That wasn't his only concern though. As much as he tried to deny it, White was worried about her. She didn't seem the type that would do well locked up. He should have done more for his sister, but he didn't have to repeat that mistake. White had a rather plausible idea that might help protect him and her.

The next day, he approached Henshaw with this idea, carefully trying not to seem too eager. They were at their familiar bar, shooting pool once again. White decided to buy some rounds on this visit. A little bribery never hurt after all, not too mention a little drunkenness. After a bit of meaningless chitchat and a few drinks down, White began to feel Henshaw out.

"I was thinkin' about what you said yesterday," White began.

Henshaw thought for a moment, but couldn't think of anything he had said of consequence yesterday, or the day before that, or the day before that. Come to think of it, he never really had much meaningful to talk about. "What'd I say?" he asked curiously.

"About Harley. You said she was trouble."

Henshaw snorted out a laugh. "That's nothin' to think about. It's true."

"Doesn't it bother you that a stupid skirt could take us all down?"

Henshaw considered that a moment. It did bother him in fact. He'd never put much stock in women. However, he came to his own conclusion. "Doesn't matter. Boss won't let that happen."

White scoffed at this ridiculous notion. "What?" Henshaw demanded. "The boss ain't stupid. He's not goin' to let her go running around no more. We're cool."

"The boss is a smart guy. I'll give you that," White agreed. "But he doesn't really care. Remember, I've been around him longer than you. A lot longer. The instant some notion enters his head, he goes with it and doesn't give a shit what happens. I mean, he could decide tomorrow that he wants…I don't know…a piñata-"

"A piñata?" Henshaw asked, confused.

"It doesn't matter what it is. I'm tryin' to make a point."

"But why a piñata?"

"I don't know! The boss is loopy! What do you want it to be?"

Henshaw shrugged in reply.

"Then it's a piñata!" White continued. "Anyway, if he's got it in his head that he has to have that, he'll send her off to get it without a second thought. It's that simple."

"Well…there's not much we can do about it," Henshaw shrugged again and returned to the game.

White sighed at his friend's lack of vision. "Actually, I was thinking maybe if she had us watching out for her, we'd be able to keep an eye on things and make sure nothin' happens."

"What? Like bodyguards?"

"Yes, exactly. Bodyguards."

"That's a good idea," Henshaw complimented.

"You think so?" White asked.

"Yeah, I do. We should really get on that."

"GREAT! Now, all you gotta do is suggest it to the boss."

"Why me? It's your idea!" Henshaw protested.

"Yeah, but it goes against my whole 'laying low' thing. You'll do fine," White encouraged.

Henshaw, not liking that idea, suddenly reverted his thinking. "…Boss probably won't let her go running around no more."

White sighed heavily in defeat. 

* * *

 

Harley was quickly disappointed that Joker didn't seem very excited about her new found celebrity. In fact, he appeared to find it an annoyance. He wasn't able to send her out on errands anymore, which meant two things: He wasn't able to get what he wanted as quickly and he couldn't make her go away when she was getting on his nerves…and she got on his nerves a lot.

Joker was only able to take a couple of days of her constant presence before he kicked her out to fetch him something, anything, but to make sure it took her a long time getting it. Harley protested as best she could and reminded him of her new vulnerability. He simply responded by saying, "No one had better come after me because of you!" and, literally, gave her the boot out the door.

After watching this scene, Henshaw seemed nervous, recalling his conversation with White at the bar. He looked at White who gave him encouraging gestures to take action.

"Uh, boss," Henshaw eventually spoke up. "Maybe we should go with her, y'know, to make sure everythin' goes okay."

Joker turned on him sharply, "And what brings about this sudden concern for me? …Or is it her?" he asked, eyeing the man suspiciously.

Henshaw looked to White for guidance who simply shook his head. White was trying to say "don't patronize him" but couldn't. Fortunately, Henshaw took this signal to mean that he was not to be worried about either Joker or Harley and to come up with something else.

"N-no sir, ya see, I've just gotten out of Blackgate and I'm not lookin' forward to another visit," Henshaw explained and it was true enough. Joker nodded his head at the door, indicating that he thought it was a good idea without actually having to say it. Both White and Henshaw exited the hideout after Harley before he could change his mind.

They caught up to Harley quickly enough. It was late and the streets were empty for the most part. Not many people had seen her and those who had would not like the attention cops would bring on themselves.

Harley was sulking with her head hanging low, watching the sidewalk go by underneath her. She didn't notice White and Henshaw as they approached her.

"You're not even trying to hide yourself!" White announced his presence. "You really are an idiot, you know that?"

"…I don't think you're allowed to call her an idiot," Henshaw warned.

"What're you doing here?" she demanded of White, seemingly ignoring Henshaw.

"Tryin' to make sure you don't get yourself thrown in the clink along with the rest of us," White explained. "Henshaw, go 'round the corner and get her a pair of sunglasses." Henshaw did as ordered and, while he was gone, White gave Harley instructions. "You do not go anywhere without either me or Henshaw with you. You understand? You don't so much step a foot outside the door because you don't know what the hell you're doin'. When we're out, you always stay in sight of one of us. ALWAYS!"

Harley crossed arms in front of her chest and looked as though she was about to tell him off when Henshaw reappeared and unceremoniously placed the sunglasses he had fetched on her face. Harley looked at herself in the reflection of a window.

"These glasses are hideous. They're absolutely huge! I'm petite; they look stupid on me," she complained as she removed them.

"Put those back on!" White insisted. "They aren't there to make you look pretty. Henshaw knew what he was doing."

"The bigger they are, the more of your face they hide," Henshaw explained.

Harley grudgingly put the glasses back on. "How do I look?" she asked sarcastically.

"Not easily recognizable," White answered flatly.

Henshaw quickly changed the subject. "So where're we goin'?"

Harley shrugged. "No where really. Mistah J just wanted to get me out of…just wanted me to get some fresh air."

White rolled his eyes.

"Well, if you don't got nothin' better to do, why don't we go to the bar?" Henshaw suggested.

"Whatever," Harley agreed.

White looked about ready to protest. He'd rather the kooks not know where he spent his free time but Henshaw was already set on the idea: "We get paid to go hang at our place, White! This is the best job ever. You're a genius."

White submitted. He supposed if the boss were that interested in finding him, he'd do it anyway.


	9. Chapter 9

Henshaw was still making over how wonderful life was while ordering himself a drink. Harley seemed bored out of her mind and White looked very tense, yet Henshaw remained blissfully unaware of his companion's emotional states as he set up their usual pool table.

"This is what you guys spend your free time doing?" Harley asked White.

"Mostly," White replied shortly and without interest.

"Well, thank you," Harley commented flatly.

"Thank you?" White repeated, confused. "For what?"

"For reminding me why I'm with Mistah J. You two are boring as hell, just like everybody else."

"Our job isn't to entertain you and you can take those off in here if you want," White said, indicating her sunglasses.

"Maybe I wanna be entertained," Harley retorted as she removed the glasses. "Maybe I won't be so cooperative if I'm not. What do you say to that, tough guy?"

White pounded his fist on the table and leaned within inches of Harley's face. "Fine," he sneered. None of this seemed to disturb the woman. After all, she'd seen far worse. White stood up and walked to a dartboard hanging on the wall. He yanked out the three darts lodged in the board and returned to Harley. "Wanna play?" he asked with a fake smile.

"Thrilling," she said sarcastically as she rose from her seat and took the darts from his hand.

"I thought we were going to play pool," Henshaw complained.

"Shut up, Henshaw," White said bitterly, and then turned to Harley. "You know how to play?"

"I hit the stupid target. What's to know?" She threw her first dart. It hit somewhere above the board and to the left. Henshaw stifled a laugh. "That was my first try!" Harley scolded him. She took better care of her stance, concentrated harder and threw the second dart, but she had overcompensated and it hit below the board and to the right. Frustrated, she took the last dart and mimicked throwing it a couple of times as practice, and then let it fly. It bounced off the outer plastic rim of the board.

Henshaw couldn't restrain himself now and had doubled over in laughter, howling, "Didn't hit it once!"

White wasn't laughing though. Not at all. "You have no aim," he realized in shock.

Harley turned to him and stamped her foot. "I've never played darts before! I can get better," she insisted and went to retrieve the darts for another try.

White wasn't paying attention to her though. He had jumped behind the counter, greatly upsetting the bartender, and went to the trashcan to remove the bag and its contents before returning to the other side of the bar. "Henshaw, grab that table and bring it to the roof," he instructed while holding the trash bag in one hand.

"White, have you fuckin' lost it?" Henshaw asked.

"She has no aim!" he exclaimed as though this was some sort of explanation. Henshaw didn't think arguing the matter would do much so he turned one of the many round tables in the room on its side and started rolling it to the stairs that led to the second floor and then the roof.

"You can't take my stuff!" the bartender protested.

"Cool it, Pops. We'll bring it back," White said as he took Harley by the wrist with this free hand and ascended the stairs behind Henshaw.

"Well, we're on the roof," Henshaw commented as they emerged behind him.

White indicated a spot near the edge of the building. "Put the table over there." As Henshaw moved the table, White began digging through the trash bag and removed five empty glass bottles. Then he took them to the table Henshaw had set up. Harley simply watched, curious to see what was going to happen.

"You gonna tell me what this is all about or not?" Henshaw asked irritably.

White removed the gun from his belt and pointedly waved it in front of Henshaw's face as he slowly explained, "She. Can't. Aim." Then he started setting the bottles in a row on the table.

"OH!" Henshaw understood now. "Jesus, where'd the boss pick her up anyway?"

"Didn't you even listen to that news broadcast?" White asked.

"No…not really," Henshaw admitted.

White rolled his eyes. "She's a doctor…or was a doctor. I keep sayin' she doesn't know what the hell she's doin'."

"Holy shit, how'd a doctor get messed up with the boss?"

"I don't know and I don't care. Right now I'm just worried about takin' a bullet in the back because she can't take care of herself." White returned to Harley's side and took her to the far end of the building with Henshaw close behind. He handed her his gun. "Now, hit those bottles."

Harley knew her own shortcomings and looked nervous. "I…Aren't we a little far?"

White took the gun back from her, aimed, and shot toward the table five times. Four of the bottles shattered with only one left standing.

"Four out of five. Not bad," Henshaw complimented. White handed him the gun and Henshaw took out the remaining bottle.

"Looks like we're close enough to me," White said as he reloaded the gun. Henshaw raced to the trash bag, pulled out another five bottles, and quickly replaced the shattered ones on the table.

The commotion of gunfire had roused the bartender who sprinted up the stairs to the roof as fast as he could. "What the hell is going on out here?" he demanded.

"Nothin' for you to worry about," White reassured him. "Just some target practice."

The bartender didn't seem to want to get involved any further, especially with gunplay involved. "There better not be any nicks on my table," was his final comment as he returned to his post.

After he had left, Henshaw teased, "Please! Like he'd be able to tell one way or another in that dump. This table is already shot to hell." White grinned at the comment as he handed the gun to Harley once again.

Harley closed one eye and carefully trained her sight on one of the bottles before her with intense concentration. She pulled the trigger. The bullet burst forth and whizzed past Henshaw, who was standing a slight distance from the table, ready to replace bottles. Henshaw froze, realizing how close the bullet had come to his head.

"She tried to shoot me!" he exclaimed.

"Were you aiming for Henshaw?" White asked her.

"No," she sighed in disappointment.

"Too bad. That would have been a pretty good shot," he commented. "You okay?" he called to Henshaw.

"Yeah," Henshaw replied as he walked across the building, dragging the trash bag. "But I'm standing over here with you guys from now on."

"Alright," White returned to Harley. "Show me your stance." Harley did as instructed, happy that someone was willing to take the time to instruct her.

"First thing you should do is open both eyes…" and the lesson continued from there. By the time they had finished for the night, she could tell her aim was getting closer. She had even hit the table a few times. Fortunately, as Henshaw predicted, the bartender didn't notice a single mark.


	10. Chapter 10

The trio returned to the roof on nearly a daily basis over the next week and, fortunately, Joker didn't seem to notice Harley's absence. His indifference bothered her, but target practice helped keep her mind of it. She knew that the lessons would help her bring something more to the table and she hated the thought of being a burden to her Puddin'.

Surprisingly to White, teaching her had been kind of fun. Watching her improve gave him some vague sense of accomplishment and it was hard not to get caught up in Harley's excitement. When she hit her first bottle off the table, they all did a victory dance despite themselves.

White and Henshaw got to know Harley pretty well over this small period of time. It was her own fault really. In their field, people tended not to talk about anything of consequence. It was too dangerous to give people information to work with and it was better not to become too attached to people that may not be there the next day. Harley did not seem to understand this concept and spouted off about everything in her life, be it from school, her brief period working in Arkham, or funny stories from her childhood. Henshaw chalked this up to her being a woman; skirts were known to be rather gabby. White, however, knew that it had more to do with her naiveté. All the same, he was thankful that she was discreet enough to avoid the subject matter of her relationship between her and his boss. That would have been uncomfortable.

The simple fact was they were getting used to each other. The intention was to keep everything business, but Harley's constant sharing of her personal life was making it rather difficult and her bubbly personality was infectious. White noticed that Henshaw was able to distance himself better than he was, probably because so much of her did remind him of his sister. His sister always had such a positive attitude no matter the situation. Because of this, White would occasionally begin talking about her to Harley before catching himself and changing the subject. The ease in which he'd find himself falling into these conversations was disconcerting to say the least. She was just so easy to talk to! He imagined that had helped her out back when she was a shrink.

They found themselves slipping into obvious familiarity even at the hideout, which was dangerous to say the least, but Harley was quicker than most people gave her credit for. There was an incident where White caught Harley's hand placement on the gun while she practiced at the hideout. He instantly went to correct her by taking the gun from her and demonstrating the proper way to handle the weapon.

"You push against the handle with this hand to better brace the shot," he explained. "You won't feel the backlash as much and it'll help your aim." He then signaled for her to sit down. "Let's try something. You're gonna hold the gun like I showed you and I'm gonna push from the opposite end. You try to keep it as steady as you can."

"Okay," she responded eagerly.

White emptied the gun and handed it to her. She ready herself as he placed a hand on the barrel and started to apply pressure. Her arms and the weapon quickly went to the right.

"What the hell was that?" he criticized as he threw up his hands. His tone wasn't as condescending as it used to be though, amusement clearly ringing through. "How do you expect to shoot someone if I can just slap you around?" White playfully began smacking he weapon in her hand to left, up, and down gruffily claiming, "You can't take me! You ain't nothin'!"

"Cut it out!" Harley laughed. "Let me try again." She pushed against his hand on the barrel, which shook a bit but stayed basically where she intended it to.

"Good!" White congratulated her. "Now think about how much this will do for your shot when my hand isn't messin' you up."

At that moment, Joker had stepped into the room. Harley flawlessly switched on her acting skills, and her face became hard as she started threatening White with the gun in her hand. "You're lucky I don't take you out right now!" she screeched. "I'm surrounded by morons!"

Joker didn't know what her fit was about nor did he care. He simply rolled his eyes at the scene and continued on through.

Once he was out of sight, White smiled at Harley while she mockingly wiped her brow. "Shit, that was close," he stated.

"It's so silly," Harley whispered, as though Joker may overhear her. "It only makes sense that he'd want me to improve my shooting skills and I have no reason to think this would make him upset…but I just think it would."

"Everything upsets him," White confirmed. "I think he just likes being pissed off." Harley giggled and put a finger in front of her lips, signaling him to quiet down. "I think we should probably separate for the rest of the day, unless you go out. Remember to let either me or Henshaw know."

"Yeah, I know," Harley nodded in confirmation and waved him away.

* * *

 Weeks of the same had passed until it all became routine. If Harley ever left, either White or Henshaw was right behind her, often both. Their peers had gotten used to this and didn't mind much either way as they tended to go with the flow. The only person who was truly oblivious to it all was Joker, who was simply happy to have Harley out of his hair and didn't care to think of the reason behind it.

Anyone could see that Harley was in a better frame of mind. She wasn't as jumpy and clearly had regained some of her confidence. Occasionally, she'd even return from one of her outings with treats for the boys, like boxes of donuts. Harley would have been a pleasure to be around if one was willing to risk spending time with her. White and Henshaw knew this all too well because she'd often be willing to spend a little extra on them. If she was getting food, she insisted they order too. If she ordered a drink, she'd buy them a round. It was different having a boss that treated you like a human being.

Then a day passed when neither White nor Henshaw saw Harley at all. Worried that she had left without them, they asked around the hideout but no one had seen her and everyone agreed that she must still be there, in the back where they weren't allowed. It was a bit unsettling because not a day had gone by since they took up protection of Harley that she did not at least give them a hello.

The following day Harley did emerge, much to White's relief. She immediately declared that she wanted to go out and, in fact, had already donned her large shades and a hat with an oversized brim. She wanted to go the bar, not for target practice, but for a chance to be able to sit down and eat without worry. When they arrived and grabbed their usual table, Harley took off the hat and the glasses to reveal a swollen purple eye.

"Nice shiner," Henshaw commented simply. "Want the usual?" Harley smiled and nodded as though everything was fine and Henshaw headed to the bar to make the order. She reminded him not to forget himself and White as he left.

White knew he should act and feel as nonchalantly as Henshaw at Harley's appearance. So she got a little roughed up? Happens all the time. But looking at her filled him with rage. Someone as kind as his sister should have the best in life, not some abusive son of a bitch that wouldn't appreciate her. No…not his sister, he reminded himself…Harley.

She just sat there sweet as could be, not wanting to trouble anyone. She was talking to him about something irrelevant and he knew he wasn't picking any of it up. Even though the subject never arose, White knew with all his heart that if her injury was questioned she'd instantly defend her man. After all, that's what his sister always did. How do you protect someone when they refuse to be protected? Not that it mattered. What was he going to do? Threaten the boss?

"You haven't touched your food," Harley said to White. He hadn't even realized Henshaw had returned, much less that food had been placed in front of him. He wasn't very hungry but started to eat anyway rather than give the impression that something was bothering him.

Henshaw had joined in whatever conversation Harley had started. White knew he shouldn't be mad at either of them, but the fact they were acting like everything was business as usual was driving him crazy. Knowing that he was the only one that appeared upset was maddening, though he was sure Harley was. She had to be.

After they had finished eating, Henshaw's cell phone rang. He asked White if he'd be okay with him taking off. White assumed it must be one of Henshaw's lady friends and agreed. Harley was ready to go home anyway. He'd just be walking her back.

It was a quiet walk. Harley seemed to realize he was upset but didn't want to bring it up. While they were walking, White's mind drifted to his sister. He never felt like he did enough for her. An idea occurred to him that he figured wouldn't be breaking any major unspoken rule. Walking the line maybe, but certainly within limits. It occurred to him how fortunate he was to be alone with Harley that night, as Henshaw wouldn't have understood.

White cleared his throat, causing Harley to look up at him. "Y'know," he started slowly, looking straight ahead, avoiding eye contact, "I was thinkin', me and Henshaw aren't around when you turn in and you might need somethin' one day so maybe I should give you my phone number, just so you can reach me if you need to...y'know…whatever."

"That sounds okay," Harley agreed.

She searched through her purse and dug out a scrap of paper and a pen. White took it and scribbled down his number. Then he paused with his pen still on the paper, turning his head to look her dead in the eyes only to be met with dark lenses. Harley seemed to understand that he was trying to read her so she removed them.

"Can I trust you?" White asked with the utmost seriousness. "I mean, really trust you?"

"Yes. Yes, you can." Her eyes held no lie.

"I'm writing down my address," he explained in a whisper, as though unseen ears could hear. "The only other person that knows it is Henshaw. I know he'd never hand it out. You can't give it away for any reason. I don't care if you think I'm dead and want to send someone to check up on me. No one can get this." Harley nodded in understanding. He handed her the paper. "If you need a place to hole up for awhile, to hide, for any reason, you feel free to come, but," he leaned in close and said darkly, "you best be sure you aren't followed."

Harley agreed and with a couple of tears running down her cheeks jumped up and hugged him tightly around the neck. White wasn't comfortable returning the gesture but accepted it and patted her once or twice lightly on the back.

Harley released him, regained her composure, and placed the glasses back on her face. When they began walking again, it was lighter and she asked him with a smile, "Feel better now?"

"Hey now!" he responded in protest. "Don't start your psycho babble on me!"


	11. Chapter 11

Rumble was bored, which meant that finding some form of entertainment was in order. He remembered how upset his mother used to get at his ways of alleviating boredom. Apparently, sticking the neighbor's cat in the oven wasn't appropriate or normal behavior. The authorities later made it clear that neither was electrocuting your unapproving mother in the shower. If only someone had given him a list of things that weren't acceptable because he apparently wasn't able to figure it out on his own…or maybe he just didn't care; he was never quite sure.

As it was, no list had yet been provided for him and he sat in an alley adjacent from the hideout with a stray dog he'd been dissecting. He currently had various organs spread out on the dirty pavement. He knew what some of them were, the heart and intestines were obvious, but he wasn't an authority on anatomy. As he was trying to identify the other body parts before him, and vaguely wondering what the spleen and pancreas did, the Joker opened a door to the strange scene but didn't seem to give it much notice.

"Hey, boss," Rumble asked as he walked by. "Which one is the liver?"

"The big one," he revealed as he directed a couple of henchman to dispose of some body bags that were notably full.

"Cool. Thanks," he said as his boss disappeared again.

With that out of the way, Rumble was bored again and that's when Harley, White, and Henshaw entered the alley back from whatever it was they went off and did. Rumble thought finding out where they kept taking off to would give him something to do tomorrow.

The following day, Rumble followed Harley and her protectors, staying far enough back that he was not noticed. He watched them enter a bar he did not frequent and then sat on the curb across the street from the establishment, disappointed at the anticlimactic location. Rumble wasn't sure what he was expecting to find, but this wasn't anything special. Although, now that he thought about it, a bar was a rather social location. One of the costumes mingling with the help seemed rather odd. Perhaps she just wanted a drink? If that was the case, she wouldn't be in there too long and he decided to wait and see how much time passed.

So Rumble waited a while, occasionally finding a nice cockroach to squish. Inside, Harley, White, and Henshaw did not head directly to the roof as Harley wanted to take on the dart board again just to prove how far she'd come. This lead to them playing a few rounds and it wasn't as boring as she had previously thought it'd be, probably because she was able to see how much she'd improved.

Afterward, they began their familiar pattern of rolling one of the tables up the stairs. Those that frequented the bar were used to it by now and even the bartender didn't pay it much mind anymore.

Rumble was beginning to get impatient, and about to enter the establishment to see what was going on, when he heard gunshots firing from above. The building wasn't tall, only two stories, and across the street Rumble could clearly see Harley shooting…at something. He wasn't quite sure what.

Well, that's sorta strange, Rumble thought as he watched Harley reload and fire again into space. At least, I think it's strange. The boss would know, he concluded and set off back to the hideout. Once arriving, he headed straight to the boss's 'office' and entered without courtesy of providing notice.

Joker irritably looked up from his work and slowly asked the man if he'd ever heard of knocking. Knocking had not occurred to Rumble, and he decided it must be one of those norms he didn't quite get. He immediately exited the room, closed the door, and knocked.

"You've got to kidding me," the Joker muttered quietly but couldn't help chuckling. "What do you want?" he snapped to the man behind the door.

Rumble figured he was allowed to enter at this point, so he reopened the door. Joker was looking at him impatiently. "Boss, I was just wonderin' what Harley was doing hangin' out at a bar with two of your boys. It just seemed kinda weird…" he explained but was quickly silenced.

"That's what you interrupted me for? Do you honestly think this is worth my time?" he vented as he returned to his work, but, at that moment, the meaning of Rumble's words sank in. "…Wait…What did you say?"

* * *

 Rumble was leading the way to the bar, followed by Joker and three other henchmen. He was feeling rather upbeat. Apparently, it had been a good idea to ask the boss what was up. Maybe he'd be rewarded.

When they entered, the bartender assumed why the Joker was there and instantly pointed toward the ceiling, indicating that who he was looking for was above, before ducking down behind the counter. As the dangerous group ascended the stairs, all of the patrons quickly took their leave of the building.

Henshaw exited the bathroom at that point and surveyed the empty room, confused. The place was never very busy, but to be completely empty? He searched around a bit to see if there was anyone hiding that he could question, but was unsuccessful. "Where'd everybody go?" he asked aloud. When he didn't receive an answer from the vacant room, he instinctively figured he should warn Harley and White to get out too, just in case something was up.

While Henshaw was trying to discover what was going on below, White was instructing Harley on the rooftop. She was now trying out different guns and discovering that they all felt a little different. He was telling her to change the position of various body parts, but when she shifted a foot invariably something else would shift with it. The simplest solution was for him to position her correctly himself. He stood behind her and placed his hands on her arms, raising them to the correct level, as he used one of his feet to coax her foot slightly over, giving her a proper base. It was in this unfortunate position that Joker burst onto the scene.

White immediately withdrew his hands and jumped back from Harley with such vigor one would have thought he had just discovered that Harley was covered with a flesh-eating virus and he was in danger of becoming infected.

Harley had dropped the gun and held her hands out in front of her as though she could hold Joker at bay. "N-now Puddin'. Calm down. This isn't what it looks like."

Joker didn't respond, which was by far scarier than if he had. As it was, he simply stood there seething. It was as though he never thought he'd come across a situation where he'd find people so willing to test him and he wasn't quite prepared for it. He was snapped out of this stupor by the sound of Henshaw lumbering up the stairs to rescue Harley from…whatever it was that scared everyone off.

When he reached the top, he saw Joker standing there. "Oh, boss, it's just you," he said with a sigh of relief. Joker quickly removed a blade from his pocket and plunged it into the unsuspecting man's gut. Henshaw stumbled backward in shock and pain.

"Yes, it's just me," the madman quipped dangerously.

"GO!" Harley shouted at White. "GO NOW!" White wasted no time and took off down the building by sliding down a drainpipe, praying that it'd hold his weight. As he slid he could hear bullets flying past him, panging off the drain or lodging into the brick of the building. The darkness of the alley was all that saved him from taking one himself. When he reached the ground he took off running and didn't look back.

Harley followed her own advice and easily leapt from one rooftop to the next, disappearing into the skyline.

"They're getting away!" Joker spat at his surrounding henchman, kicking the men toward the stairs to track down his prey.

"But boss, which do we go after?" one asked him.

Joker stared angrily in the direction Harley ran. "She'll be back," he decided, more to himself than to anyone else, and they took off after White.

Rumble did not follow and his absence didn't seem noticed. He was too busy circling Henshaw curiously. "H-help," Henshaw sputtered as he held up a begging hand to the strange man. Rumble withdrew his familiar worn knife and fear shot across Henshaw's face.

"I need your liver," Rumble explained calmly, as though it would put his new victim's mind at ease. "I need to compare it the one I have back home." Henshaw tried to crawl away, but Rumble placed a foot on his chest, holding him in place. "Don't worry," he soothed. "I know right where it is…I think."

Blood dripped from Henshaw's mouth as Rumble dug into him without precision. After a moment or two his eyes glazed over and he lay still, making Rumble's endeavor much easier. He always appreciated it when they stopped thrashing around.


	12. Chapter 12

Harley was certain she wasn't followed. The Joker was many things but acrobat wasn't one of them and there was no way he'd be able to keep up with her. Only when she felt she had gotten a safe distance away did she allow the evening's events to sink in, pacing back and forth on the roof of whatever building she now stood. Tears threatened her eyes for Henshaw's sake as she paced but she fought them off. There was nothing that she could do for him now, but Harley was sure she'd seen White hit the pavement safely. He may still be alive and he might need help.

She remembered the address White had previously given her and decided that she should make her way there. Gotham still looked so strange to her from the vantage point of the rooftops. She lowered herself to the ground to get her bearings and quickly took off to White's safe house.

White puffed as he ran harder than he'd ever run before. The plan was to get home, pick up the essentials, and leave…to where he wasn't certain. He purposely turned and twisted his way up and down streets and alleyways to evade his pursuers, hoping that the randomness in which he changed direction would throw off the Joker. But then, the boss existed in the random and nonsensical.

Absently he realized that he really didn't need to think of him as 'the boss' anymore. His attempts at staying below the radar were blown. Joker had gotten a good look at his face that night and he wasn't likely to forget it anytime soon. Even now, he could imagine Joker demanding his name from his former 'co-workers'.

"WHAT'S HIS NAME?" Joker spat at the three henchmen flanking him as they flew out of the building.

"We's just call him White," one answered loyally to the Joker, never considering how he may one day find himself in a similar situation.

They rounded the corner and entered the unlit alley, quickly realizing that they had no idea which direction White had gone. Joker stopped and held up his hands to quiet the others, straining to hear any trace of footsteps. Running, someone was definitely running not too far ahead of them and they followed the sound, but, when its source was reached, Joker growled in anger. This wasn't White; it was a homeless man quite out of his mind. He was clutching at his few meager possessions, muttering something about thieves, and was so far gone that he didn't even seem to notice the presence of Gotham's most notorious criminal.

Joker knew that White had a tremendous head start with this delay and knowing he'd lost his prey made him see red. He was quite used to this state of bloodlust and, when he awoke from it, Joker saw the three henchmen and the unfortunate man that caused his detour dead at his feet, though he didn't quite remember doing anything.

Angrily he stalked home, cursing both at the top of his lungs and under his breath. He had lost both White and Harley and was left taking his rage out on people that didn't matter in the slightest. But Harley would be back he reminded himself. That much he was sure of and then he'd make her pay. And who knows? There were only so many places White could turn to. He may end up tracking him down after all. All that was required from him was patience…Not his strong suit, but he was sure he could manage.

* * *

Harley arrived at White's place and cautiously knocked on the door. When no response was given, she forced her way in, only to be quickly tackled by a large man, pinning her to the ground. The man was too heavy for Harley to dispense with so she screamed and kicked helplessly in protest. Recognizing her voice, White abruptly released Harley and stammered out an apology.

"I didn't know it was you," he explained.

"Who'd ya think it was!" Harley snapped irritably.

"I don't know! I heard you knock and freaked out."

"Do ya honestly think Mistah J would knock?" she berated him.

"…Probably not," he admitted while stepping outside the door, darting his head both ways in search.

"I wasn't followed," she assured while pulling him back inside. "Packing, I see." She regarded the duffle bag lying on the floor. "Where ya goin'?"

"I dunno," he replied sadly, staring at the bag with her.

Harley smiled at him. "Well, luckily for you, I know exactly where you're goin': Metropolis."

"But…but I've never been outside of Gotham."

"No time like the present." She knelt down and started refolding his clothes so they better fit inside his bag. White looked very unsure at this new plan as Harley could plainly see. "Listen," she began. "It's my turn to help you out. Metropolis is one place Mistah J tries to stay clear of and, on the occasion he does visit, he doesn't stay very long."

"Superman," White commented knowingly.

Harley laughed loudly. "No, no, no. I've recently learned that there's much more to fear from the Bat than the big blue boyscout."

"Then what scares the boss?" he asked.

"Nothing scares the Joker!" she declared venomously, taking White aback but she quickly reverted to her sweet self. "He just respects some folks more'n others. It's no one that'd pay you any mind," she replied cryptically. "I wish I could get your foot in the door somewhere, but I really don't have any connections. I'm sure a big tough guy like you won't have any problems finding work though," she said with a wink.

White was still nervous about leaving the only place he'd ever known but trusted Harley's judgment on the matter. When they had finished packing they walked outside to say their goodbyes, but instead of goodbye Henshaw blurted out, "It's my fault Henshaw's dead."

"He knew the risks," Harley responded rationally.

"No! You don't understand! I'm the one that told him we should be lookin' after you. I had to really scare him into it too."

"You…That was your idea?"

White nodded slowly.

Harley was shocked. She'd always assumed Mistah J had come up with the idea last minute after he'd kicked her out that night. She fought off tears from this revelation. "He…W-we don't know," she sputtered. "Maybe he's still…"

White stared daggers back at her, daring her to finish that though. She fell silent. They both were quiet until White broke it by saying, "Come with me," in a begging tone.

"Don't be silly!" Harley scoffed. "You'll be fine."

"I'm not worried 'bout me," he admitted. "He'll kill you, y'know."

"Maybe… Probably. One day," Harley agreed with little feeling. Her nonchalant attitude over such a serious matter was making him heated.

"You know he's gonna kill you…but you won't leave him?" he questioned slowly, trying to make each syllable sink into Harley's brain, hoping that she'd realize how insane it sounded.

"People do crazy things for love." She shrugged. That tiny gesture was the final straw for White. How could someone shrug away their own life so easily, forfeit it to another person?

Before Harley could see it coming he had each of her arms in his hands, pinned tightly to her sides, and was vigorously shaking her back and forth. "That doesn't make sense! Why, Laurie? He's gonna kill you! I won't let it happen!"

"White! Stop! Let me go!" Harley demanded.

"I'll make you come with me," White growled, angry at her stubbornness. He easily lifted her off the ground and slung her over his shoulder.

"Put me down, White! You hear me? Put me down this second!" But he didn't hear her anymore. He was deaf to all her protests, as he headed down the street with Harley on one shoulder and his duffle bag on the other. "White, if you don't put me down, I'll scream," she said coolly. "I'll scream and someone will come and we'll both be arrested. And if you think you're safe from him behind bars, White, you're dead wrong. In fact, you're just plain dead."

He heard her that time and halted his step, the word 'dead' hanging over their heads ominously. He finally relinquished his hold and set her gently down before sitting himself on the sidewalk, emotionally exhausted. White realized he was crying. …He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried. He tried to hide his face from Harley, embarrassed.

Harley sat next to her distraught friend and tried to comfort him. "Your sister's named Laurie?" she asked softly.

White nodded. "Her name was Laurie. He killed her. I knew it was gonna happen. Kept tellin' her but she wouldn't listen," he explained.

"You can't make people listen, White."

"I coulda made her leave!" his voice rose. "She wasn't any bigger than you. Woulda been easy."

Harley shook her head. "She would've been miserable and she'd have spent her life hating you. As it is, she lived the way she wanted, being with who made her happy and knowing she had a brother her loved her. I'm sure that was a comfort during those tough times."

"But…that doesn't make sense," White said again in exasperation.

Harley gave him a crooked smile. "No, I don't suppose it does. What happened to her killer?"

"Oh, I took care of him," he said darkly.

Harley laughed. "Tell ya what. If Mistah J ever does me in, you have my permission to teach him a lesson."

White snickered at the ridiculous notion.

"You really don't have to worry about me though," she continued as she picked up a soda can lying in the gutter near them. She threw it in the air and whipped out her gun, blowing a clean hole in its center. "You taught me how to take care of myself. Thank you for that."

White chuckled and stood back up. He was sure there was plenty to worry about where Harley was concerned, but her demonstration made him feel better somehow. "Guess you showed me."

"Goodbye, White. I'll miss ya." She embraced him and he returned it this time.

White had never been one for goodbyes, so he didn't say anything. The best he could muster was to wave back at her when he was about to walk out of sight. He took in Gotham for what very well may have been the last time, realizing he really wasn't going to miss it all that much. He also found that he wasn't too worried about his future. He had survived Gotham; Metropolis would be a snap.


End file.
